


The Hunt

by rainbowdracula



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdracula/pseuds/rainbowdracula
Summary: Will never wanted to meet his soulmate.Fate has never been kind to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while on many accounts.
> 
> Commission done for infinity77. Find me at [my Tumbr.](http://www.rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/)

"Come along and talk with me,

Sing the sweet song of despair.

Give your body, give your soul

In the furnace of our love."

\- _Vampyre Erotica,_ Inkubus Sukkubus

 

Darkness bloomed across Will's skin like it bloomed in his brain.

His soulmark spread across his back like an ink stain on white paper, the many branches of a perfect ash tree stretching from the small of his back to the nape of his neck. Most marks were small, unobtrusive things easily squirreled away – Will's soulmark seemed incapable of being ignored, Will waking screaming of frostbite in the middle of the Louisiana summer. All shied away from Will when they gazed upon it, barely able to imagine the jealous beast that housed the other half of Will's soul.

Will had little interest in other people, anyway – the closer he became, the more their minds seemed to open up to him, pouring into him loud and violent. He saw enough viscous red in his dreams, dripping down from the barren branches of a snow-covered wood, and he didn't need it to enter his waking world.

Isolation was an easier river to drift down, still and silent.

 

-

 

Sometimes, when he awakens from dreams of viscera and bone, Will prays that he never meets his soulmate. It was comforting, being alone like he was with dogs and a river for company. He knows what sort of creature was capable of loving him, he taught classes about them that caused fearful campus whispers to follow him around corners.

When Jack found him, keen to make him a hunting dog, Will accepted in hopes that his nature would frighten Jack off permanently. Will was a broken thing, far too broken to do such a thing. And then Jack introduced him to Hannibal, and Will hated Jack in a dark, deep way.

Will could sense a self-styled predator when he saw one, standing in Jack's office in a tailored suit. Something about him made every nerve in Will's body prickle, and his mind curled around itself, a wounded hound protecting itself.

It didn't help, Hannibal's eyes piercing through his walls like glittering knives. Will felt flayed open in Jack's office, crimson thoughts dripping down on to the inoffensive carpet, and Hannibal hadn't even spoken above the low, soothing therapist murmur. Will knew intellectually there were times he felt rawer, more torn open, but he couldn't think of a single one as he fled from Jack's office and Hannibal's unblinking gaze.

 _Reptilian_ , his hindbrain screamed, the response of hunted prey. _Out out outoutoutoutout—_

Will ignored the ache of his soulmark and the way he dreamed of skeletal trees, his fingers rasping against sun-bleached bone in an endless blank landscape. The next morning, the girl is placed upon the rack in a twisted shadow play, and Will dives deeper into the mind of the Shrike.

So deep, in fact, Will kills him and steals his skin, draping fatherhood around his shoulders like another man would a lion.

 

-

 

Therapy – _conversations, Will_ – was a mistake.

More chances to be ripped open and poured out, poked and prodded by Hannibal's toothed words. His dreams were even murkier, lurching him out of the bone tree woods and into endless seas of black feathers, caressing and whispering and drowning him. Every night was interrupted with sweat and fear, world melting into nothingness as Will tried to sleep without dreaming and was unable to.

"You don't speak of your soulmate," Hannibal asked in that low, probing tone, waiting for the right combination of words that would make Will split open like an overripe peach in the sun. Will wondered if he truly brought any comfort and healing to his patients, or left them open wounds that slowly scabbed and scarred over before Hannibal ripped into them again.

"No," Will said shortly. "I don't have much interest in meeting them."

They said that the stronger the bond, the stronger your dreams. Will had no desire to meet someone that caused him nightly terror.

"Unusual," Hannibal said, another piece of the puzzle that was Will falling into his hands. "Most people your age are scrambling to find their soulmates."

"Well, I'm not most people," Will snapped. "Thus why I'm in here."

"Indeed," Hannibal murmured. "But you have no desire to meet your other half? Live a life half empty?"

"My soulmark covers my entire back and gives me nightmares," Will said flatly. "Not every match is wholesome and good, Doctor."

"Despite your hesitance, your bond seems remarkably strong," Hannibal said. "Does the possibility of such potential intimacy scare you, Will?"

Will huffed, not looking at Hannibal. Hannibal was always too much to look at, like a cold burning star. "No. I just have no interest in it."

Hannibal simply hummed, cool and assessing like a brightly plumed bird of prey.

 

-

 

Abigail was not born with a soulmark. It eats at her like a leech, a circling thought – her father was born without one, either. People think that those unmarked were always doomed to death and madness.

"Be glad you were born whole," Will said. "Not every pair is meant to be."

He showed her the sharp, stark lines of his own mark, and perhaps Abigail understood, driving them closer to understanding each other. Perhaps this could be a way to shed the skin of Garrett Jacob Hobbs, find a new way to connect.

It was so hard to find a connection.

 

-

 

Hannibal never mentioned his own soulmate.

While his office was an ode to himself, showing the cool arrogance and detachment that defined him, there was a lack of anything truly personal. No photographs, and any books that might've held personal significance were written in languages Will couldn't speak. He had run his calloused fingertips across the gold-embossed spines, pacing in circles around the cavernous space as Hannibal had watched him with predatory fascination.

"Your sleepwalking has increased in intensity?" Hannibal asked.

Will had dreamed of walking down a long and winding road, a stag with raven feathers following behind him, and awoke to police sirens. Police sirens, it seemed, always followed him.

"I've been having these...waking dreams," Will confessed. "Sometimes it's difficult to tell what is real and what is not."

He moved in circles as Hannibal stayed in one place, the twin legs of a compass creating a circle. The dying sun of the evening poured through Hannibal's pale curtains, creating stark and dreamy shadows that gave the whole room even more of an unreal aura. Will sometimes doubted reality's nature the strongest here, where all things were rich and luxurious and melting.

"I worry about you, Will," Hannibal said. "I worry that you are not taking care of yourself, letting your body become ragged and worn as you chase monsters for Jack."

"I can't _stop,_ " Will said. His fingers dropped from the books, nails bitten to the quick.

"You can learn to care for yourself," Hannibal said. "Perhaps eating a real meal, or going to bed before one in the morning?"

"You are not my father."

"You are clearly not taking care of yourself."

Will snorted. "How do you suppose that I take better care of myself, Doctor?"

"You can start with a dinner," Hannibal said. "I am always willing to cook for my friends."

"Is that what we are?" Will asked. "Friends?"

"I would hope so, Will," Hannibal replied. "I certainly consider you a friend."

Will watched Hannibal with a learned weariness, before he drifted back to Hannibal's collection of Japanese silk screen panels. His unruly hair fell into his eyes.

"I'll go," Will said. "I'll go."

 

-

 

Hannibal's house felt like an extension of himself – large, luxurious, and overwhelming. It was almost dizzying to look up at; Will was certain the broken down trailer he lived in could fit in the front hallway. Hannibal was beaming at him as they stepped into the dining room.

Above the fireplace there was a painting of _Leda and the Swan_ , so prominently placed above the fireplace there was no other reason for its existence than to shock his rich and prudish acquaintances. Perhaps this dinner won't be as awkward as Will expected.

Hannibal gestured for Will to sit on the right of the head of the table, and waved off Will's offers to help him bring out the appetizer.

It was a soup that was bright red and steaming, with chopped potatoes and pieces of meat strewing in it.

" _Prdelačka_ ," Hannibal said. "A Czech soup made of pork blood."

"I don't think this is FDA approved, Doctor," Will hummed. Hannibal smiled.

"Perhaps being more adventurous would be good for your health," he said. Will took a spoonful, and it tasted like copper pennies on the back of his tongue. Hannibal watched him with laser focus, and only partook in his own food when Will seemed content with his own.

"Perhaps," Will murmured. There was something familiar about the soup, the taste and feeling of it sliding down Will's throat. Hannibal poured him a glass of wine with a label Will couldn't read. Hannibal, it seemed, was intent on wining and dining his way into Will's good graces, like he had so many others.

"Just a three course meal, tonight," Hannibal explained. Will snorted.

" _Just_ a three course meal, Doctor?" Will murmured. Hannibal laughed.

"Well, I wanted to impress but not overwhelm," Hannibal laughed. "Are you impressed, Will?"

"We'll see."

That seemed to spur Hannibal on, and he swept the empty soup bowls back to the kitchen. Hannibal returned with bleeding rare prime rib served with asparagus and roasted potatoes, a strange red sauce ladled on top. He set it down in front of Will with flourish, and Will smiled demurely. That seemed to bolster Hannibal's already enormous ego even more.

Will sliced into the tender, rich meat, and his eyes fluttered for just a moment at the taste. He was never much of a "foodie," viewing such things as another way to keep himself going, but even his unrefined palate could recognize something exceptional like this.

"It's good," he told Hannibal, who smiled.

"Excellent."

There was silence for a moment, ringing through the huge cavernous mansion, and Will suddenly became aware of how huge this house was – all for Hannibal.

"Do you..." Will began. Hannibal paused, and Will struggled to word the question. "Do you want to meet your soulmate?"

Hannibal tilted his head, coolly assessing, before responding. "I'd admit, I'm incredibly curious about them. My soulmark is quite large, I'm curious what our bond would be like."

"Presumably intense," Will said. "Mine is large, too. Covers my entire back."

"Intense bonds can be sources of comfort and love in a chaotic world," Hannibal said. "They can also lead to enmeshment and toxicity. Abigail doesn't have a soulmark."

"No," Will said. "She doesn't."

"Jack thinks she's a murderer," Hannibal said. "Just like her father."

"She was just born whole," Will said fiercely. "That doesn't make her a murderer. Lack of a soulmate leading to violence and murderous tendencies has never been proven beyond junk studies."

Hannibal hummed. "I agree with you, Will. Abigail needs protection from all the rumors surrounding her, not Jack's evil eye."

He poured Will more wine. Will drank it.

Hannibal took away their entree plates, sweeping them away from the table and into the kitchen. He returned with delicate squares of tiramisu on thin, almost translucent plates of china. Will never had tiramisu before, and it almost melted in Will's mouth.

"I was tempted to cook traditional Louisianan dishes, but there is still much research I have to do," Hannibal confessed. "I did not want to disappoint."

"I haven't had Southern food in a while," Will said. "I am a little picky over my seafood."

"Something we have in common," Hannibal laughed. "You must be careful with what you put into your body, for it becomes you in due time."

Hannibal poured Will another glass of wine, and it made Will's head spin for a moment, heady and rich. The heavy food settled low in his belly, filling him up and making his eyes droop. For the first time in what felt like forever, Will felt sleepy instead of tired.

"Would you like some coffee?" Hannibal asked. Will fought down a yawn.

"It's getting late," Will murmured. "I should be getting home."

"It's very dark out," Hannibal said neutrally. "You have a long drive ahead of you. Perhaps you should spend the night in one of my guest bedrooms."

"I couldn't infringe on your hospitality any more than I have," Will said, no matter how tempting the idea of just slipping under a heavy comforter and drifting off was. The dogs had been let out and fed before Will had driven over. "I won't bother you the whole night."

"Your company is never bothersome, Will," Hannibal said firmly. "I'd rather you sleep here rather than drive tired in the dark."

It did sound good. Will's eyelids felt like they were made of lead, lashes drooping to brush against his cheeks. "I can't..."

"You're dead on your feet," Hannibal insisted. "Please, I believe I have spare sleep clothes..."

Hannibal ushered Will out of the dining room and directed him to a plush, decadent guest room with a large and luxurious bed. He directed Will to the bathroom, handing him a stack of clothes and a towel. Will murmured a thanks, and then plunged himself into the hot pounding water of the shower, the weight of the world washing off his shoulders for a moment.

He padded back out into the guest bedroom, laying out his clothes before crawling underneath the heavy comforter. He sunk into the mattress, letting it swallow him into darkness.

He drifted down through it in blissful oblivion, worries unraveling from his limbs like red ribbon. He breathed out, body floating, and his back hit silt. His eyes opened.

The dark water surged and moved all around him, rustling his hair and filling up his lungs. He kneeled on the ground, sinking into the silt, and stared across the flat landscape, dread crawling up his throat. Silence reigned all around him, thundering in his ears so loud he couldn't even hear his own pounding heartbeat.

In the distance, almost too far to see, the dark shifted in shadow-plays that made him shake. He breathed out in a stream of thick, inky bubbles, pouring out of his mouth, and the shadow-plays came closer and closer. He tried to raise himself up, but the water held him down in the muck.

From the whispering shadows came a raven-feathered stag.

It was the color of the water, feathers flaring and its proud crown of antlers jetting up to the surface. It stepped lightly on the silt, not leaving a single footprint, and halted in front of him. He sucked in a breath, not daring to move as the raven-feathered stag bowed its head in front of him.

Its antlers framed his head, so close to the vital arteries of his neck, and it breathed hot against his face. He didn't close his eyes, body shaking as he stared transfixed upon the beast. The stag nudged against his face, and he whimpered, the antlers slicing against the pale skin of his shoulders. Bright red blood threaded through the air, drifting up to the water's surface.

He tilted his head back, revealing a pale and vulnerable neck, and as his eyes slipped shut he felt the sharp prick of human teeth sinking into his throat.

Will awoke with a gasp, staring up at the elegant ceiling of Hannibal's guest bedroom. His stomach rolled in protest, hair sticking to his face from sweat. He tossed off the soaked bedclothes, mentally wincing at the thought of Hannibal stripping the bed and seeing his shame down to the mattress.

He walked across the hallway to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to wash away memories of the dream. When Will caught his breath again, he dried off his face and went back into the hallway, but paused at the sound of noise – soft, but there.

Will descended Hannibal's dramatic staircase, the noise becoming louder as he neared the dining room. Light poured from the archway to the kitchen and across the table, and with caution Will approached it.

Hannibal was standing in an apron and his sleep clothes, creating little meatballs and placing them on a baking sheet. Will blinked and asked, "What time is it?"

"Late," Hannibal said evenly. "I found myself unable to sleep."

Will stepped into the kitchen and to Hannibal's side, watching those scarred and sure hands roll the spiced ground meat into spheres.

"I find cooking soothes a restless night," Hannibal said. He still hadn't looked at Will. "What makes you restless tonight, Will?"

"A dream," Will murmured. Hannibal hummed, rolling the last of the meat and placing it on the baking sheet.

"Dreams reveal much to us," Hannibal said. "Did this dream reveal anything to you?"

He washed his hands in his tall sink, and he slid the baking sheet into the oven.

"No," Will said. "Nothing that I didn't already know."

"Do you think you know a lot about yourself, Will?" Hannibal asked, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. "Some argue that you can't know yourself until you meet your soulmate."

"Should I bill the FBI for this therapy session?" Will asked, defenses rising. Hannibal's gaze remained cool and assessing.

"Should I not talk to my friends in the night?" Hannibal countered. "I worry about you, Will."

"It's just a dream about my soulmate," Will said. "Mixed with dreams about the recent murders."

"Are you still seeing Garett Jacob Hobbs in your mind's eye?" Hannibal asked. Will didn't respond, and Hannibal stepped closer, his presence towering and overwhelming. Will looked away. "Or something else?"

"It was nothing," Will murmured. Hannibal reached out, hand on Will's shoulder, and Will shivered. "Nothing."

"Was it?" Hannibal asked. "Tonight, I dreamed of drowning."

Will sucked in a breath, and Hannibal's hand drifted down across the clothed expanse of Will's back, before slipping under Will's shirt. His fingers left electric sparks in their wake, and Will cried out when his bare fingertips touched his mark. Will reached out, desperate, and slipped his hands under Hannibal's shirt, hands spreading out across Hannibal's mark. He didn't need to see it to know that they matched.

"I knew it was you," Hannibal said. "I saw you and wanted to crawl inside you."

Will made a harsh sobbing noise, face pressed into Hannibal's shoulder. His whole body was shaking with electric heat, singing as the split halves of their soul met again. Hannibal clutched at him, inhaling the scent of his dark curls, and he kissed along Will's hairline. Half-crazed and full of bonding hormones, Will wanted them to merge into one being and never separate into two again.

The oven dinged, and Hannibal pulled Will to it, drawing out the meatballs. They sunk down to the floor, and Will opened up his mouth as Hannibal pressed the meat on to his red tongue. It felt like a benediction, and Will closed his eyes as he chewed it. Hannibal fed Will two more before Will returned the gesture, Hannibal's lips kissing his fingertips. The night was so quiet and still around them, heavy like a woolen blanket, and Will breathed out hotly.

Hannibal leaned across the space between them and rested his hands on Will's jaw, trailing down his neck, and kissed him, softer than Will had ever imagined. Will rested his hands on Hannibal's forearms, leaning closer to him. The world was melting all around him, blood rushing in his ears as they seemed to combine and separate over and over again. Will had never wanted anything more than the rush of coming together, over and over again, without the pain of separation.

Hannibal rested his forehead against Will's, and for a moment they shared the same air.

"My heart," Hannibal said. "I want you forever."

"Yes," Will agreed. "Yes, yes, yes—"

They stood in a single, fluid motion, hands trailing across each other's skins. Hannibal led Will up the stairs, down the hallway, and into his room. They passed a ceremonial set of samurai armor, and yet Will was too distracted to pay much attention to it. Instead, they stripped themselves bare and laid down on the bed, curling around each other like paratheses, ankles tangled together. There was a fire in the grate, flickering with dancing orange light, and it made the lines of things indistinct and hazy. Will breathed out, the air in his lungs heavy and sluggish, and arched when Hannibal kissed his neck.

He felt the scrape of teeth against his jugular, and groaned. Hannibal rolled them over, becoming a heavy and comforting weight on top of Will. His fingers skittered against Hannibal's mark, electric impulses trailing down his arms and making him shake. They kissed again, the night rearing up all around him and making them feel like the only two people in the world.

Hannibal's hands clutched at Will's hair, elbows on either side of Will's face as their noses brushed against each other. Will's legs parted to fit Hannibal's big body, knees squeezing against his hips. Hannibal sighed, lips parting and Will's own eyes slid shut, shivering as Hannibal kissed at his jaw. Will's fingers slid up Hannibal's mark, tracing the lines that he knew by heart, and let himself melt.

Hannibal slid his hands down the length of Will's body, settling on his thighs and squeezing the muscle there. Will twined his arms around Hannibal's neck, nails digging into his shoulders, and they kissed hard and wet.

"I've waited for you for so long," Hannibal said. "I spent so long imagining what you looked like, how you thought of me, what your dreams were like. And then you came to me so much more than I could ever imagine."

"I never wanted to meet you before," Will murmured. "But now I can't—"

Hannibal kissed him again, cutting off Will's babbling, and Will sighed into it. Hannibal pulled away and murmured, "It's alright, my heart."

Will huffed, kissing Hannibal's nose. Hannibal kissed his way down Will's body, hot lips on his jugular and collarbone, lingering over his pounding heart. Down and down, lavishing attention on the sharp jut of Will's hip bones. Will threaded his fingers through Hannibal's pale hair, massaging his scalp as Hannibal sucked bruises on Will's inner thighs. They'd ache in the morning, proving that this night happened and wasn't another one of Will's fever dream.

Hannibal kissed down the length of Will's leg, lavishing attention on his ankle, and his eyes burned like coals as he watched Will. Will was spread out across Hannibal's bed, dark curls against the white pillowcase, and Hannibal picked up Will's opposite leg, repeating the attentions in reverse. Will sighed, pressing his cheek to the pillow as Hannibal made his way back to his hips.

"I want to memorize you," Hannibal whispered hotly, and pressed his face between Will's legs. Will gasped as Hannibal licked at his hole, kicking his feet out. Hannibal growled, gripping Will's thighs and holding them close around his head.

Hannibal was intense as he ate Will out, his smoldering eyes never leaving Will as he tossed and whimpered under his ministrations. Will had never had this done to him before, had barely even kissed before, and his whole body was flooding with the feeling of Hannibal's mouth on him.

"I—" Will stuttered, words stumbling out of his mouth as his brain leaked out of his ears. "Hannibal, I—"

Hannibal made a humming noise, gripping Will's hips in a way that promised fingertips on his skin later. He seemed intent on driving Will out of his mind and crawling straight out of his skin, overheated and oversensitive. Hannibal was rumbling, deep from the back of his throat, and the vibration skittered up Will's spine, making him shake.

He rose up once again, tall and powerful and framed by the flickering shadows of the fire. Will stretched himself out longer, watching how the edges of Hannibal blurred in and out of focus, and some still functioning part of his brain was screaming at him in a language Will couldn't understand. The night drew heavy all around him, and he breathed out, sluggish and slow, like he was underwater.

Hannibal pushed Will's leg to his chest, spreading him even more exposed, and questing fingers pressed against Will's entrance. Will allowed him with a tilt of his head, lashes fanning out across his cheeks, and when Hannibal pressed in Will sighed in a great gasp.

Hannibal seemed intent on driving Will straight out of his mind, moving with infuriating preciseness as he fingered Will open. Will tossed his head back and forth, heels kicking out and chest heaving as he struggled to keep all the little pieces of him together instead of shattering apart.

" _Hannibal,_ " Will gasped out, reaching for him with questing fingers. Hannibal leaned over him, letting Will twine himself around him, and whispered words Will couldn't understand. Hannibal pressed and rubbed against Will's prostate and Will almost screamed, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His brain was sparking from all the stimuli assaulting him, and he couldn't grasp at the golden threads of warning thoughts that demanding his shot attention.

Hannibal slid in a third finger, teeth hot and sharp on Will's jugular, and Will was shaking apart, eyes wide and staring blankly at the ceiling. He didn't know what noises were pouring out of his mouth, just that he couldn't stop them if his life depended on it, and his nails scratched bright red lines up the length of Hannibal's broad back.

"Beautiful," Hannibal breathed. "The height of God's creation—"

Will kissed him, desperately trying to stop the words pouring from Hannibal's mouth that made him flush and sputter and felt like lies in his ears. Hannibal laughed at him, mouthing at his jaw and fingering him until Will was barely able to make noise, let alone understand what Hannibal was saying.

Hannibal slid his fingers out, settling his hands around Will's thighs and pushing them down to his chest. Will let out a long wail as Hannibal pushed inside him, his big hands slipping from Will's thighs to grip at the sheets on either side of Will's head. Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal's waist, clinging to him as Hannibal slowly pushed into him with intensity.

" _Noriu sunaikins jus_ ," Hannibal growled like a pacing wolf. He settled inside Will, adjusting to sharing the same space. Will felt himself bleeding into Hannibal and Hannibal bleeding into Will, mind shifting with shadows and vivid, pulsating red. The room around them melted away into nothing, puddles of color lapping up against the bed and staining the sheets.

Will tossed his head back, breathing out harshly as Hannibal started to move his hips – it was a slow pace, but hard and deep. Will huffed and groaned as Hannibal increased the speed of his thrusts until he was slamming into Will, the force of it moving Will up and down the bed.

"Please," Will murmured, and he wasn't even sure what he was begging for, but Hannibal gripped his hips and started slamming him down to meet Hannibal's hips. Will stared at him, lips bitten and red, and Hannibal's eyes were like hot coals, predator intense as they stared at Will.

Everything was melting, streaking down like paint splashed on glass and pooling on a window still. Hannibal was melting, too, melting on to Will and pouring into him until all Will could see and hear and touch and taste was Hannibal. Beneath Hannibal's skin was blackness, shifting and alive, and it came out like sharp little feathers that Will pulled out by the handful.

The feathers fell to the bed and Will's world was unraveling like worn-out cloth, falling in strings all around him. The line between reality and fantasy had completely melted away, and Will couldn't figure out what was real, Hannibal appearing before him in double vision – the man with sweat mussed hair and a panting mouth, and then a creature of feather and shadow, a familiar nightmare to Will.

From this shadow creature's back grew out Hannibal's soulmark – not a perfectly symmetrical tree, but a crown of antlers.

Tears poured down Will's cheeks, his whole body writhing across Hannibal's sheets, sweat pouring from every inch of him. Hannibal overwhelmed him, smothered him down to the bed with his great and terrible weight, and Will's own mark ached and bled with the truth. In the low firelight, it seemed like Hannibal's teeth were red. His nails dug bloody scratches in Hannibal's back.

"You," Will breathed.

"Me," Hannibal replied. His hand closed around Will's throat – not tightening, just there. Will wrapped his own around Hannibal's wrist, squeezing. Hannibal's expression was unreadable, but Will was reminded of statues of saints locked in the throes of religious ecstasy.

"I should've..." Will murmured, revelation flowing through his blood. "I should've known what you were."

"Only a monster could love you," Hannibal said. "You told that to me, once."

"Here you are," Will murmured. Hannibal's grin was feral.

"For you," Hannibal said. "I love you."

Tears pricked at the corner of Will's eyes, and he turned his head away. Hannibal resumed his forceful thrusts, breath panting in Will's ear as he leaned down closer and closer. Will drew closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, teetering on a precipice – he should shove Hannibal off, run off, call Jack, save himself—

He kissed Hannibal as he came, clinging to him and sobbing like it was forced out of him. Hannibal was making animalistic noises, not stopping as he continued to pound into Will. Will's body was limp, world falling apart around him, and he sobbed and cried as he clung to Hannibal.

Hannibal came inside him with a howl, body constricting all around Will so tight there was no hope of escape.

Afterwards, he stretched above Will like the night sky, heavy arms caging Will in place. Will had no desire to move, and let the Chesapeake Ripper pant stucco breaths against his vulnerable throat. Hannibal slid out of Will, rolling on to his side and holding Will against him in a powerful grip; Will's legs were useless things, his body allowing him to be moved as Hannibal saw fit.

"Will you tell Jack?" Hannibal asked, sugar sweet. "Reveal to him the sacred secrets the bond revealed to you, and watch the other half of your soul be locked away forever? Or will you hold it close inside you whenever you walk into the Ripper's crime scenes, telling Jack little lies and returning home to the monster every night?"

"Your crime scenes," Will murmured. "Your murders. You don't consider it cannibalism."

"For it to be cannibalism, they'd have to be equal to me," Hannibal said. His hands stroked Will's belly. "Equal to you."

"I'm a human like they were," Will said. Hannibal scoffed.

"No," Hannibal declared. "You are so high above them, my heart, no matter how much you try and tell yourself you're below them."

Will ran his fingers over the sheets, fisted them in the pillowcase, and the monster behind him crooned sweet nothings into his ear. Will felt unclean down to his core, but that feeling had never been a new thing for him.

"You want me down at your level," Will said. "You want a companion in all things in your life."

"Of course," Hannibal said. "Don't we all?"

"Your hobbies aren't the usual," Will replied, sardonic. "I would spend every day wondering if today was the day you wanted to truly devour me whole so I could never leave."

Hannibal chuckled into Will's ear.

"I won't have to do that," Hannibal murmured darkly. "I already have."

 

-

 

Will walked through the halls of the Academy as if in a dream.

Announcements had been done, proudly declaring Will and Hannibal two halves of a soul, and he had received congratulations from strangers and grumbling from Jack over if his clean bill of mental health was "tainted." Poor Jack, having to find a new therapist to rubberstamp Will back into the field. Will barely heard the praise of strangers over the ache of bruises on his hips.

Hannibal was an all-consuming lover.

The rumors that Professor Graham had found his soulmate had circulated down to his students, and perhaps some of them thought this might temper Professor Graham's sharp edges. It didn't – if anything, the low level humming in his head made Will's temper worse.

Noises ached, questions like needles and nails. He tried to temper down his natural urge to snap and growl like a hurt animal, but it was difficult when words scratched against him like nettles. Their eyes were bright and blinding, like they could see the darkness now lurking deep underneath his skin.

A secret Hannibal had kissed into his mouth before Will had left for work. Asshole.

He managed to not bite the head off his students, but they watched him with weary eyes as they all shuffled out. Some lingered, wanting to ask a question, but they all turned down the hall and vanished out of Will's life until the next class period. In the lonely night, Will sometimes wondered if they even existed between his lectures.

He lingered, packing up his things slowly as the students trickled out. He didn't like getting crushed in the rushing crowd, especially not now, when his whole body hummed like a live wire.

"Will."

Jack had a grim face when he came to Will's desk, and stated, "The head of the Maryland Hospital for the Criminally Insane thinks he has the Chesapeake Ripper in his hospital."

 _He does not,_ Will thought easily. _The Chesapeake Ripper is at work right now._

"Really," Will said evenly.

"A nurse was found murdered in a way that mimics the Ripper murders," Jack continued. "Abel Gideon, he's been sedated and restrained for now."

Will shouldered his bag and followed Jack sedately, out of the Academy and into the car, looking out the window as a caravan made its way to the Maryland Hospital for the Criminally Insane. His mind felt far away, even as Chilton's crawling voice washed over him, droning about how he suspected Abel Gideon was the Ripper the whole time and he was _so sorry_ that they all realized this way, they should've done more research when the Ripper went to ground after Gideon was arrested. Will idly wondered what the title of Chilton's book was going to be.

Chilton led them through the labyrinth hallways of the hospital, down and down into its bowls until they were in the emergency medical wing. Jack opened up the door for Will, and he stepped into the latest nightmare.

The nurse was pierced and impaled expertly, a strange sterilized Wound Man in white and red, and it mimicked the careful precision of the Ripper. Yet as Will stared at it, the more its plasticity and fakeness came through – a replica, lacking the diabolical creativity of the real Chesapeake Ripper.

Will looked at the scene, knowing Jack was hovering in the doorway, and the truth was sticky on his tongue. He glanced over to Jack and Chilton, Hannibal's hand a ghost on his throat.

"It's him," Will lied. "This feels like a Ripper scene."

Chilton was doing a poor job suppressing his triumphant grin.

Will walked out of the hospital, and amongst the black SUVs was a shining Bently. Beside it stood the smiling Hannibal. Will stepped in front of him, cameras and sirens flashing all around them.

"My heart," Hannibal purred, cupping Will's face with his hands.

"Yes," Will replied, and let himself be kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm at rainbowdracula.tumblr.com,](http://www.rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/) where you can find out more about my work and how you can support me.


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